


Closing Time

by PsykoRedHead16



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Retail, Eventual Romance, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsykoRedHead16/pseuds/PsykoRedHead16
Summary: Stuart Pot is a fresh new employee for Shop-More Drug Store where long time assistant manager Murdoc Niccals shows him the ropes. Along the way, through his first real job, Stuart meets curious people, manages school and discovers the unfortunate horrors of working retail on the night shift.EDIT 09/24/19 - OH HOLD





	Closing Time

**Author's Note:**

> I changed some of the characters ages to suit the AU and maybe some personality quirks, but otherwise this is just my way of making fun of my job ;P
> 
> A fair amount of the conversations and events that occur in the story are actual real-life things that happened. However it's up to the reader to figure out where I took liberties ;) haha! Some of the responses are what I would have liked happening if we lived in a consequence free world. This story is MOSTLY meant to be light-hearted and comedic with a dash of insane hijinks. 
> 
> Side note: everything is intentional unless otherwise stated. I'm that particular about my details ;)

_June 5th 2015_

Summer had yet to properly start so the weather remained rather tenuous, often swapping from rainy to cloudy. Stuart barely batted an eye over such trivial nuances. His mind focused on the road passing, cars of the same drab colours blurring by under a wet sky. The jittery melody of Baba O’Riley filled the small four door sedan, lyrics lost under the sound of rain on metal. From the corner of his eyes he spotted his mother’s fingers tapping in time to the beat. 

“You excited?” She asked above the tune.

Turning his head to glance at his mother’s relaxed face he sighed. A red light had them slowing to a stop; two sets of lights more and he would be exiting the vehicle. Rachel cleared her throat to regain his attention and he jumped just enough to be noticeable. 

“Yeah, ‘course. It’s exciting,” he mumbled in response. Rachel appeared unconvinced, but prodded no further. 

“You remember to call when finished—”

“Mum,” Stuart sighed, “shift is only four hours, can’t you come back at ten?”

“I’m visiting nan and your father is at his meeting tonight. Call, okay?”

The gentle reminders were her way of urging him to remember something. Stuart nodded to appease her. His eyes quickly found the white lettering on red as the sedan pulled into a strip mall parking lot. They had arrived far quicker than he wanted. The building had been dedicated to this store for years, long before his family had moved there. He even recalls a time his mother took him shopping there; that was three years ago now. 

Staring up through windshield wipers at the glowing letters he gulped quietly, nerves alight with anxiety. When his mother parks nice and close, a mere parking space from the entry he glances to her nervously.

“Oh sweetie, don’t be so nervous. You’ve got this.” She laid two gentle pats upon his bony knee as reassurance. “Besides, four hours isn’t long. Just do as your told and things will be okay.” 

Bringing a hand up he nibbled at his thumb nail, a nasty habit he had yet to kick. Rachel tutted and without consent was undoing his seat belt. 

“Go on Stuart, give me a call at nine thirty okay?”

With no other choice he grabbed the worn strap of his messenger bag and stepped up and out into the rain. Blue hair turned darker where raindrops fell. He leaned in the passenger side and smiled anxiously. 

“Nine thirty, got it mum. See you later.”

“See you sweetie.” 

Once the door was shut Rachel pulled away. She gave him a curt wave before driving off, leaving him stood under the slight cover of the entry looking smaller than his actual height. He bit at his nail again, waiting until the family sedan was completely gone. 

Pivoting towards the automatic door he inhaled deeply. Approaching said door he nearly collided with the glass when it shuddered open, catching slightly on the metal frame. Flustered, he sped walk past it, through the space with carts and baskets to a sliding door. Thankfully the secondary door opened faster. Warm air fell over his slightly cooled skin. 

A bored voice greeted him and he sought out the owner. A cosmetician was leaning into her counter reading something off her phone, clearly disinterested in him or work. From his distance he could only see bright red lips and dark hair, the rest of her face turned to the side. He hesitated in the entry, unsure whether to move towards her or press on. He needed a manager and doubted this woman would be too enthused to help so he opted for walking by quietly. 

Gripping the strap of the dark messenger bag, Stuart spun on the spot for a moment, eyes roving the features of the store. Everything seemed foreign to him, but then he hardly ever visited the shops on a good day. To his right there was a huge wrap around display unit stocked with varies brands of makeup. It would have blocked his view of the cosmetician if he were shorter. To the left was a set of small spinning units with jewelry tucked in close to a shelf of magazines. He glanced to the aisles some paces ahead of him, curious if it would lead him where he needed or not. 

He shifted his weight and decided on bypassing the aisles completely. Passing the section to his left he began to see more magazines and books, beyond which there was a cashier helping a customer. With no other options presenting themselves he marched towards the till and stood in wait. He rocked on his feet, eyes scanning the front of the store. So lost in examining the place he missed the short woman waving her hand. 

“Hey, you’re up next buddy.” 

Honing on the cashier, Stuart scrambled to come up beside the check out. He caught the decorated name tag and intensely purple hair. It made him do a double take. He wasn’t in a place to comment though given his own hair.

“You buying something or?” She trailed off questioningly, drawing his attention to her face. 

“Actually I need a manager,” Stuart answered, voice cracking. He coughed to cover it and continued, “I’m suppose to be here for training.”

Surprise enveloped her face. “Really? Didn’t know we hired anyone. Hold on.”

Stuart watched her move one pace to her right and grab up a well worn phone. She pressed a couple buttons via a manicured nail, unsurprisingly there were lilac in colour. For a moment the drone of background music cut out and her voice echoed overhead. 

**Murdoc to front cash, please.**

Quickly the phone was replaced and bland elevator music resumed. She side stepped back into position and leaned forward on the counter. Face resting upon palms with elbows planted on the discoloured white surface, she scrutinized him. It made him self-conscious and he picked at his red sweater. 

“Name’s Noodle,” she announced while sticking her hand out towards him. He shook it briskly trying to appear more relaxed than he felt. 

“Stuart.”

“Which department were you hired into?”

Recovering the momentary whiplash at her quick-fire question he replied slowly, as though unsure. “Merchandising.” 

“Damn,” Noodle said with a snap of her fingers. Stuart was astonished she could manage the action with such long nails. “I was really hoping for company. It gets boring up here at night.” 

The phone next to her began ringing in quick intervals. Noodle rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. He observed her snatching the phone to settle it against her ear, resting between her shoulder and face so her hands were free. She tapped one set of nails against the counter in frustration. 

“I just paged you—” Stuart heard a tiny voice cut over hers with a rough retort. He only caught one word: _break_. He could safely assume that meant whoever this Murdoc fellow was, was suppose to be on break. “— Yeah it’s important, why would I call his highness otherwise?” 

Noodle sounded irate. Stuart briefly considered getting directions instead of waiting, but the young woman hung the phone up abruptly. 

“Old fucker— Oh! Shit— Shoot, you uh, you didn’t hear me say that.” 

Despite it Noodle giggled, hand shooting up to cover her mouth. Only appearing slightly guilty, Stuart felt a smile tug at his own lips. A small chuckle escaped him and without thinking he made a _my lips are sealed_ gesture.

“I like you Stuart,” Noodle commented pleasantly. 

He was interrupted from adding some kind of agreeable comment when a man a couple inches taller than Noodle approached the till with haste. A brief exchange mostly consisting of grumpy stares passed between Noodle and the man. Stuart held tight to the strap of his bag, eyes sliding up and down the other. He could hazard a guess this was the Murdoc that Noodle had paged. 

“So he graces us with his presence,” Noodle quipped, voice dripping in heavy sarcasm.

The man, who Stuart had not confirmed was Murdoc, gave her an eye roll. Unable to ignore it, Stuart tilted his head to see his eyes. He had never seen someone with startlingly mismatched irises. 

“Take a picture, it’d last longer,” came a gruff comment. Stuart flushed and averted his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ve never seen— well.” Stuart gestured to his own eyes, cautiously glancing up. “They’re neat.” 

“Yeah _well_ , that’s what happens when you get a bat to the face. Anyway, c’mon. I’m showing you shit.” 

Noodle gave him a thumbs up when the other man strode off. Stuart fretted at his bag strap before finally trailing the older man. Easily capable of catching up with longer legs, he had to taper them to keep in pace. From the corner of his eyes he examined the shorter man, intrigued with the tattoos he saw. He was fairly certain one arm had an octopi in red. 

“You seem to stare a lot kid.” 

At having been caught a second time Stuart stumbled in stride, awkwardly adjusting his bag and himself. The man paused at the end of where large racks displayed chips, eyeing Stuart in mild concern. 

“Walk much or read about it?” 

“I’m good,” Stuart rushed out.

They resumed, turning left by a small waiting area for the pharmacy. An elderly woman sat with a pamphlet in hand, though she lowered it to stare at them unnervingly until out of range. 

“So tell me, how much experience do you have working retail?” A large grey swinging door was held open for Stuart. 

As he stepped through he noticed the change in floor quality, though that was speaking rather highly of the floor to begin with. Within the large space the floor was scuffed beyond repair, discoloured to brownish-white. At the prompting cough, Stuart looked up and hurried to answer the other. 

“I did a few shifts at the fair during the summer, but I don’t have much experience with customer service otherwise.” He quickly added on, “I’m Stuart by the way. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Didn’t you?” There was a teasing lilt to the man’s voice that had his stomach doing anxious flips for some unknown reasons. “Murdoc, to refresh your memory, which seems to be rather short.” 

The anxiousness was replaced with a buzz of irritation.

“Do you always patronize new employees?”

“Only the cute ones,” Murdoc said airily. He brushed by Stuart through a secondary doorway that lacked doors. 

And instantly heat bloomed along his cheeks. Stuart felt like a fish out of water while Murdoc disappeared from sight entirely. All he could manage was to open and close his mouth, face red, trying to discern why it had embarrassed him at all. From his point in the middle of the space, Stuart had a good view of everything including Murdoc leaning around the corner of the second doorway. 

“You gonna stand there or can we resume this tour?” 

Recovering his momentary shock, and placing the off colour comment aside, Stuart hurried to come around the corner into a tightly packed area. He trailed Murdoc to a desk with a computer and cubbies above it. Sat on the desk beside the keyboard was a greasy brown paper towel with half eaten pizza pops. Stuart eyed the miserable looking food a moment too long and Murdoc grumbled. The man reached over and scooped up the cooling food and dumped it into the trash bin beneath the desk.

Stuart bit his lip awkwardly. Murdoc dusted his hands clean on black jeans and grabbed a manila folder from an open cubby labeled with little letters that spelt out Murdoc’s name. He held the folder out to Stuart. 

“You need to fill out some paperwork. Do it at home. Last thing you need is people reading your personal stuff," Murdoc stressed.

“Right. At home, got it.”

“Now, a uniform.”

Murdoc walked by him and wandered off beyond the skids and shelves across from where he stood. Stuart waited where he was holding the file unsure whether to follow or stay put. He shifted his weight and examined the space curiously. There was clutter covering nearly every available area so he kept his bag on and opted to flip through the file. Basic paperwork, bank information, emergency contacts, agreements and what not. To him it seemed excessive and confusing, but he supposed this was what a real job was like. 

“I’m not sure which is more appropriate,” Murdoc commented behind him. 

“Huh?” 

“Medium or petite?” 

Stuart pivoted to glance down at what Murdoc was holding. There were two dark blue polo shirts in each hand.

“I— uh, medium?”

“You sound rather unsure. You still letting mummy do your shopping then?”

“Medium,” he snapped, mildly offended. 

Murdoc made a sound, something akin to a ruddy old car engine attempting to start. For an instant Stuart was stunned to realize it was a _laugh_ , one which sounded rough. As though the man smoked two packs a day and drank like a fish, which for all he knew was an actuality. 

“Here.”

Tapering off, Murdoc shoved the shirt into his otherwise occupied palms and stepped about him. Stuart nearly dropped the folder in favour of grasping the blue shirt.

“Change and I’ll show you ‘round. Not much to see, but I should at least warn you what you’re in for.” 

Waffling to find an appropriate location for his messenger bag, Stuart hurried to set it aside. He perched the folder on said bag and awkwardly tugged his red sweater off. Murdoc eyed his graphic tee-shirt with some skepticism like Murdoc couldn’t believe what he was wearing, an expression he didn’t wholly understand. Glancing at the faded print of George Romero’s infamous, ‘Night of the Living Dead’, movie poster on his shirt, he frowned in confusion. 

“Romero fan are we?” 

Glancing up Stuart gave Murdoc a curt nod followed by a slow grin sliding onto his face. Murdoc gave him a new noise, a soft appreciative hum saying he agreed with the choice, which had his stomach in knots again. Without thinking Stuart launched into a minor spiel.

“It’s one of my favourites,” he said while scooping up the blue polo. “I’ve always fancied myself a zombie aficionado. Can’t go wrong with the classics, Night of the Living Dead for example. Though the newer stuff is hit or miss, in my opinion, some of it seems pointless with such a focus on the violence and dried out plot lines like Resident Evil. They won’t let it go after what four movies?”

“Whoa, I get it. You’re into zombies. Let’s not get carried off here.”

A flush of embarrassment washed over him at the quick dismissal. 

“Sorry, I ramble on and—”

“It’s fine, no harm done.” 

Stuart took a minute to struggle his way into the awfully tight material of the polo shirt, using the distraction to push the humiliation down. In the time it took him to yank his own uniform on Murdoc was already wearing his own. The shirt hugged the older man showing off the mild pouch of fat around his stomach; signs of middle age if Stuart had to guess, though wouldn’t dare announce. 

“If you’re done staring,” Murdoc began mildly, “let us meet the crew.”

Stuart noted how impatient Murdoc appeared and thus followed the man when he exited the back rooms without complaint. On their way through the large open area where shelves of stock skirted the edges, Murdoc paused and swept a hand out, gesturing to the space. 

“This is for our received orders and other goods. When the orders come in we plonk the pallets here and work on the crap till it’s gone.”

“Oh uh— okay.”

“Come along blue-boy.” 

Hastily walking to catch up, Stuart shadowed Murdoc around the swinging doors past the pharmacy waiting area where the same lady was still sat. They made it ten paces before Murdoc cleared his throat and motioned limply at the two staff working beyond the drop off counter. 

“Pharmacist is Del, pharmacy technician is Bethany.”

Stuart watched the tall black man work diligently at his computer, glasses sat on his face and reflecting the lights. Beside the pharmacist was a short woman with bobbed black hair and two green barrettes. She glanced over to them, barely capable of seeing them over the middle island they worked at. Her piercing green eyes narrowed as though she planned to say something. 

“Ever need a freebie for migraines, stomach aches or maybe a high so you can deal with this place…” Murdoc cleared his throat and continued, “anyway, pharmacy. Let’s press on shall we?”

As they passed the pharmacy, Stuart could swear he felt eyes boring into his back. It could have been his imagination though. 

“How long have you been here?”

The sidelong look of suspicion made Stuart run over his words, seeking the part that may have sounded offensive. He found nothing off about the innocuous question, not anything Murdoc should be upset by. 

“Why?”

“I’m just curious, honest.”

“Too long,” Murdoc sighed. 

Giving the older man another once over he could see the lines of exhaustion and sheer boredom pinching at the corners of Murdoc’s face. Stuart kept the observations to himself.

“This is post office. That’s Calvin.”

Between them and the dozing man at a post office till were multiple skids stacked full with Coke and Pepsi products. Stuart blinked and stared at the man tilted back on a chair, feet propped up. He wore a ball cap covering most of his face. The heady smell of marijuana emanated from the far corner where Calvin was relaxing which alarmed him; only mildly. 

“Should he be high on the job?”

There was a couple seconds where Murdoc seemed to consider the question seriously. He shrugged in answer and pivoted. Stuart looked between Murdoc retreating and the half-awake postal worker before giving it up as a lost cause. He trailed the older man like a stray.

As they walked, Stuart glanced from either side taking in the products on the shelves. The first portion had travel sized things on the right and hair driers on the opposite side. The further they went one side became hair dye while the other was shampoo and conditioner. Ahead of them Stuart saw one section of the makeup display unit from when he entered earlier. 

“The man gets his job done, can’t fault him for relaxing in the lull.” 

“Thought it was illegal?”

“Let me check with the boss—”

Murdoc halted and tapped his chin while he face morphed into a mock studious expression. Stuart was beginning to feel singled out with the barrage of sarcasm. 

“— Y’know it really doesn’t bother me. I partake occasionally.”

“Never mind,” Stuart muttered in irritation. “You’re taking the piss with everything I say, since I stepped in.”

“Toughening you up for the real job. Trust me, it’ll all be worth it in the end. You’ll thank me.”

Without waiting, Murdoc resumed stepping down the aisle. He dodged a customer coming in from the other end and gave her a forced cheery smile before turning and urgently motioning Stuart after him. Hurriedly striding around the customer, face awkwardly angled away, Stuart caught up. They both walked around the display unit until the backside of the cosmetician desk and tills were visible. 

All Stuart saw was a plump bottom when he stopped beside Murdoc, wiggling about. 

“Oi Cracker, better not be on your damn phone,” the older man barked. 

It startled him and he thought to the woman in the aisle past the display unit, hoping she hadn’t been scared by his abrasive voice.

“Oh bugger off ‘Doc! You made me drop my pen.” 

Murdoc gave an amused noise, similar to an old dog feebly barking before giving up halfway. Stuart wondered when he had so quickly started to categorize these weird noises. He shook his head when Murdoc kept talking. 

“What are you even doing?”

“I _was_ cleaning up the drawer with our paperwork, clearly I’m the only one who bothers.”

A petite woman with rather dull features stood up to face them. Stuart was instantly drawn to her dark sunglasses and thin red lips which had a beauty mark just offset. Although not conventionally attractive by society’s standards, Stuart felt his heart skip a beat. 

She seemed to be staring at him from behind the dark lenses while settling a neatly manicured hand on her hip.

“Whose this then?” 

“Fresh meat,” was Murdoc’s response, which had him blanching in distaste. 

Hasty to rectify the somewhat rude comment, Stuart stepped forward and held out a hand. 

“Stuart Pot, well— Stuart or uh, Stu is fine too.” 

Her grip was firm, more so than he expected from such a small woman. The smile she gave him was positively terrifying and he awkwardly smiled back. He hoped she didn’t notice how sweaty his palm was.

“Paula, pleasure Stu.”

If his cheeks coloured at her calling him Stu, nobody commented. Miraculously.

“It’s uh— it’s nice meeting you Paula.”

She pulled her hand back and brought it up to push the shades down slightly. Brown eyes greeted his blue ones and he felt weightless. 

“Likewise,” she murmured.

Rather abruptly Murdoc was pushing him away from the cosmetician desk, ushering him roughly around the display unit further from Paula until they were mostly out of sight. 

“Don’t let ‘Doc push you around too much,” Paula called. She laughed, it was nasally and a little too high sounding, but he loved it.

“Right, don’t go professing your love too fast Mr. Darcy, Cracker is out of your league.”

“W-what? I wasn’t thinking nothing—”

“Oh please, it was written all over your face. Blushing like a school-girl virgin with a crush.”

Flushing even worse at the comment, Stuart huffed and crossed his arms a little indignantly. He was beginning to find Murdoc’s commentary rather asinine. 

“I’m not a virgin.”

“And I’m the pope, c’mon _Stu_.”

Groaning at the obvious jab to his earlier introduction, Stuart shuffled along with Murdoc. A bit mortified at being called out he stubbornly remained quiet until they reached the second cashier till. Noodle spared them a fleeting look before picking at her nails once more. Murdoc leaned against the counter and tilted forward to peer into a back room Stuart hadn’t seen prior. 

Inside the smallish room there was a tall man with slicked black hair and a pointed nose. He was chatting on the phone while checking a computer. The frustration in the man’s voice matched how Stuart felt, though it was for an entirely different situation. Murdoc rolled his eyes and backtracked to Noodle’s till. 

“What’s wrong now?”

“Lotto issues. I think.”

Stuart watched the exchange quietly. He noted how Noodle gave a micro expression of discomfort when Murdoc spoke to her. From the short amount of time in the man’s presence he could completely understand the feeling. 

He jerked when the phone was slammed down in the cash room. 

“Why do I bother?” He heard the supervisor mutter. 

“Oi, Ace, come out and greet our new coworker.”

As if noticing Stuart hovering at the till for the first time, Ace blinked owlishly at him. An awkward amount of time slid by where it was a staring contest, at least until Murdoc leaned over and gave Ace a, ‘come here,’ gesture with one finger. 

Ace was roughly the same height, give or take a few inches. He reached forward when stepping out, to shake Stuart’s hand. Ace gave him a casual smile, lips tilted a little crookedly as they both lowered their palms. 

“Names Ace,” Ace reintroduced in an accent he couldn't place.

“Stuart. It’s nice meeting you, sorry for interrupting—”

“Nah, it’s cool. We get issues like that all the time, is what it is y’anno?”

“Oh, sure. Yeah.”

“Titillating,” Murdoc tacked on sardonically. “What’s the lotto problem?”

Stuart noticed the difference in interaction instantly. Ace sighed and used his till to sag against as he directed his focus on Murdoc. The man seemingly liked Murdoc or at the least tolerated him better than Noodle; or maybe he was reading too much into the easy-going body language Ace gave off, for all he knew that was Ace's normal behaviour. 

“Lotto? Nah man it’s a customer complaint ‘bout their receipt. Out fifty cents and wanting a refund.”

“Of course,” Murdoc responded flatly. 

“I tried explaining it’s far more lucrative just saving themselves the gas money. Accused me of being a thief, never had that one before.” 

Stuart slowly inched away from them while they spoke and stood nearer to Noodle’s till. The young cashier glanced at him curiously when he whispered to her. 

“Is Murdoc always y’know, rude?”

“Yeah.”

“So it’s not me?”

“Nope.”

Part of him felt strangely relieved to hear that. At first he felt singled out, as though he had personally wronged this man he had never met before now. However, if Murdoc happened to be nasty by nature, Stuart could handle that. He probably wouldn’t have to deal with the man beyond a few shifts off and on after tonight.

Murdoc sidled up next to him abruptly, almost near enough to touch. 

“Where’s Russ at?” 

“I ‘unno,” Noodle replied. “Try looking for him with your legs and eyes.”

Narrowing his mismatched eyes, Murdoc grumbled at her. Stuart was getting the impression these two did not get along well. Murdoc stepped by Stuart and caught the hem of his uniform, tugging him. Twisting around so he could walk properly he gave Noodle one last look. He was met with an uneasy wince. It was an unexpected expression, but not totally confusing given who was dragging him around. 

“Last person is Russ, our useless LP Officer.”

“That’s like security? Right?”

“Yeah, if security does fuck all when there’s theft. Lovely fellow though.” 

Walking a different path to earlier, Stuart peered at the coolers and freezers to his left. He spotted a few popular brands he partook in eating, it brought warm memories of his childhood with it. His mini daydream distracted him into missing Murdoc stopping.

Murdoc groused when Stuart collided with him. 

“You got your head in the clouds or what?” 

“Sorry.” 

Murdoc turned his gaze to a large man moving through the aisle beside them. 

“Oi, Hobbs, c’mere a second.”

Stuart moved himself a pace from Murdoc and rubbed his arm self-consciously. They were joined by a hulking mass of a man who Stuart was sure could crush him in a single palm. He gulped and subconsciously inched in behind Murdoc as though to protect himself. 

“What’d you need now man?”

“Relax.” Murdoc nodded his head towards him and Russel directed his gaze up. “Wanted to introduce Stuart, our new merchandiser. Stu-pot this is Russel Hobbs, our loss prevention officer.” 

“Hi.”

A warm and sincere smile enveloped Russel’s face. It lowered his anxiety rapidly and he held out his hand, feeling less intimidated by the bulk of Russel’s frame. Though he noticed how insanely large the other's palm was compared to his own. It was a touch discerning. 

“Welcome to the team man, hope the tour is going well.” 

“It is, everyone seems so nice.”

Russel gave a deep in the chest rumble of a chuckle as he took his hand back. Stuart cocked his head perplexed at the reaction. 

“Now I know you lying, nobody finds Murdoc _nice_. This stinky ass cracker always yelling and cursing when he’s here.”

“And this lazy lummox of a man never deals with criminals when asked.”

“I deal with you on a daily basis, ain’t that enough?” 

Despite the hostile nature of the conversation both of them broke out into grins, snickering as they did. He was beginning to think the people here either had a fair amount of history or were putting on a front for him. He was going to go with the latter. 

“Real piece of work Hobbs. Keep up the good fight mate, you might even _catch_ someone for once.” 

“Careful man, I’d hate to make a citizen’s arrest on you. S’nice meeting you Stuart, I’ll be seeing you around.” 

Unable to formulate a proper response before the man was gone, Stuart opted for a small wave. Russel lumbered off, meandering through the aisles until completely gone. It was curious, in his mind, how someone so clearly built for the job seemed to lack the drive to actually do it. 

As though to answer the unasked question of why or what, Murdoc coughed to catch his attention and commented drily, “unfortunately his hands are tied. He’s an honest bloke and he cares, it’s the company that doesn’t allow much more than a ghost of a threat.” 

“What’d you mean?” 

At a snails pace, Murdoc casually strolled into the final aisle before the grey swinging doors. He easily kept in pace and stopped before barreling into the other at the car fresheners. 

“Company policy says he can’t touch a shop lifter. He can talk to them, but let’s be honest, how good does a stern talking to do? Piss all is what. It’s a frustrating gig, but someone has to do it.” 

“Sounds useless, yeah.” 

“Ah, there you go.” Murdoc gave him a lopsided smirk and patted his back. “You’re catching on Stu-pot.”

For some odd reason he found himself returning the smirk with an amused grin of his own. 

“Now listen, I’m off to finish my break so I’ll leave you to tidy up in the mean time. Think you can manage?”

Instant dread seized him and it seemingly showed on his face because Murdoc waved a hand soothingly. 

“Twenty minutes, Stu-boy. I’ll even show you what to do, real simple.” Murdoc turned to the shelf and pulled some product forward till it was lined up with the rest. “S’called facing. That’s all you need to do for twenty minutes. Easy right?” 

“Right, yeah. Easy.” 

Stuart fiddled with the hem of his new uniform, slightly nervous and a bit unsure where to begin seeing as he knew so little. Murdoc pointed to a few spots with product pushed back. 

“Focus on those spots and work along until I return.”

The man gave Stuart no time to reply as he disappeared between swinging grey doors. Nerves high and heart pounding, Stuart looked at the items on the shelves and gradually began working like instructed. 

His thoughts ran over all the faces and names, trying to memorize them by playing a mental rhyming game; otherwise he would surely forget the majority of them. So in tune to his task he nearly jumped out of his skin when Murdoc appeared at his side. It was only then he noticed he had only made it half way down the aisle. He gave the older man a wide eyed look like a deer caught in headlights.

“What in the ever loving hell are you doing?”

“F-facing—”

“Are you some kinda automaton? You don’t need to face every single item from the back to front, you’ll be here till hell freezes over for satan sake.”

“I was doing what you told me to do, I don’t understand.”

“You ready to put in 50 plus hours in unpaid overtime?”

“No.” 

“Then stop it, stop that.” Murdoc batted his hands away from the shelf. 

Giving an over wrought groan of frustration, Stuart motioned to the product. 

“You _told_ me to face, I’m facing.” As he spoke he shot a hand out to emphasize what little he had faced, unknowingly too close to the products. 

Rather unexpectedly an outlet freshener tumbled off the shelf and landed face down. There was a nasty cracking noise and an overly powerful scent of summertime flowers invaded their senses. Murdoc looked down towards the container and the leaking fluid. Clamming up in panic, Stuart wrung his hands and peered from the broken item to Murdoc, whose face he couldn’t see. 

“Y’know what Stuart—”

“I’m sorry I— I’m so clumsy, I can pay for it honest,” Stuart blurted in a rush, fearing instant ejection from the place. 

“— You and I will get along swimmingly.”

“I— What? I’m lost…”

“Shit breaks all the time. Hell, I break stuff intentionally to take home— Don’t you dare breath a word of that to anyone or it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Going from smirking to glowering, Murdoc jabbed his chest when he threatened him. He blinked and nervously shook his head. 

“I won’t.”

“That’s a lad.” 

His chest was patted and Murdoc gave him a strangely genuine smile. Directly after their exchange the mess was cleaned up and the older man took him through a quicker version of facing. A technique the man dubbed, _quick facing_ , which consisted of pulling literally one item forward. 

He had questioned it and Murdoc snapped back with a, “it looks clean Stuart, that’s all you bloody need. So long as it **looks** clean, nobody cares.” He left it at that, thankful when 10:00 p.m. rolled around. 

When the other staff had wished him a good night as he slid into his mother’s car he realized it had finally stopped raining. It was only halfway home that his mother decided to broach the subject of work. 

“So, how was it? Did you make any friends?”

Picking at the hem of his uniform that he left on, Stuart watched the street lights highlight and darken his lap while thinking of his answer. His thoughts drifted to Murdoc who after being an exceptionally difficult person at the start, seemed genuinely pleased at having Stuart there, abrasive attitude aside.

“Yeah, sort of. Everyone was pretty nice. Manager is interesting.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful, I’m thrilled you had a good shift dear. Wait till you get your first pay stub. Won’t that be nice?”

He pressed his head to the window and smiled in response. Apparently the first time jitters were pointless, the job seemed lenient. 

_Getting paid to do basically nothing will be a breeze._ Stuart thought.

He had no way of knowing what to expect in the coming days, for now he was blissfully ignorant.

**Author's Note:**

> Can any of you guess which Canadian store this facsimile is based on?


End file.
